


The Viscount and The Witcher

by JaskiersWolf



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Book Dandelion, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Noble, M/M, Thirsty Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaskiersWolf/pseuds/JaskiersWolf
Summary: Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove always dreamed of becoming a bard but life and Destiny had other plans. Now a successful and wealthy nobleman, he hears rumours of a witcher travelling through his land and Viscount Julian's curiosity just won't let the opportunity pass him by.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 57
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is my Geralt/Dandelion fic as part of my Alternate Meets collection. I had a moment whilst reading the books where I just sort of went a bit feral over the book versions of these boys, Dandelion in particular. Then I got sad because there isn't much out there with Dandelion instead of Netlfix Jaskier. So I decided to write my own! That being said I have mellowed out Dandelion's womanizing ways and made him more of a bi disaster.

Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove was bored. He’d been bored for some time now. In his youth he’d dreamed of becoming a travelling bard. He’d even focused his time in Oxenfurt on the liberal arts and had graduated quite successfully from the academy, but before he’d even begun his journey to becoming renowned troubadour, he’d been called back to his family home. The news of his father’s death had been an unfortunate one and he’d been forced to step up and become head of his vast estate. 

There had been a moment, in the dead of night, witching hour, when he’d very nearly picked up his lute and fled. 

He hadn’t. 

He’d turned over and gone back to sleep. He did have a rather luxurious bed and he’d not been short of company to fill it with. He often wondered what would have become of him if he had run away that night, at barely eighteen. He often dreamed of the songs he could have written, the people he could have met, the adventures he could have had. 

A deep part of him sorely regretted the path not taken. 

Instead he drowned his sorrows in the most delicious wine from Toussaint and lured beautiful people to his bedchamber. He was determined to enjoy the few pleasures left to him in gluttonous amounts. 

He gazed out of the window of his study into the gardens. They were stunning at this time of year. They weren’t the most well kept gardens, but he liked that. He enjoyed the wild long grass and the litany of yellow, white and purple weeds that sprung up in the summer. The sounds of bees filled the air, a constant low buzzing that he found both soothing and wildly distracting. He enjoyed a long stroll in the gardens when he wasn’t buried under paperwork. Quite frankly he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the different silk sheets used in the guest bedrooms or whether the local houses were paying their taxes in time. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of that diplomatic nonsense just disappeared? 

Poverty could become a thing of the past. He’d given away vast amounts of his fortune whenever he could convince his lawyers to let the assets go but his estate only thrived more as the farmers, workers and merchants were able to work more efficiently and invested more funding into their livelihoods. 

He couldn’t begrudge them that but he felt guilty for owning so much when they lived on so little so he kept feeding his money back into the surrounding villages and they kept growing and expanding their homes and businesses. 

None of the surrounding lords or barons could understand how he did it. 

He couldn’t exactly explain it himself. 

He had been hoping to run his estate into the ground so he could run off and have the heroic adventures that he’d always dreamed of. Perhaps he would even run into one of those witchers. He was fascinated by witchers. He always had been, ever since he was a boy and he’d heard the rumours of the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. The rumours were that the man had slaughtered an entire village with his bare hands in some kind of blood-fuelled frenzy. 

Julian didn’t believe that for a second.

He’d snuck down to the library and buried himself under books, scrolls and parchments, anything in his father’s great library with even the whiff of a witcher. He’d read bestiaries and fairytales, utterly bewitched by the tales of fae, vampires and werewolves. He devoured everything he could by candlelight. It was what had driven him to his chosen career as a bard. He wanted to experience those stories himself, he needed to live it. His thirst for knowledge and innate curiosity had seen him through Oxenfurt with ease. He’d been able to spend far too long in taverns and brothels whilst his peers studied books and manuscripts that he’d read within the first months of attending the famous school. The library had been enviable and he’d been unable to stay away for months. 

He sighed dramatically. It had all been a fucking waste of time. He closed the leather-bound book he’d been scrawling in, even after all these years he couldn’t help the flashes of creative inspiration that hit him. It was like a vampire’s thirst, burning in his throat and heart. He had to write, he had to play and sing and dance. He ran his fingers along the underside of his writing desk until he heard a faint click and a drawer popped open. He tucked the book neatly into the draw beneath the pressed dandelion. 

Dandelion.

It was to be his stage name had he followed through with his plans. 

He’d kept the pressed yellow flower as a reminder. He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers before sighing loudly. 

“Master Dandelion, renowned troubadour and poet.” He pouted before gently returning the flower to its cage and closing the drawer shut, it vanished into the wooden desk without a trace. “I supposed it is quite poetic,” He whined. “I am like the flower trapped in my own cage from which I cannot escape. The flower which holds my name and soul shares my fate.”

He groaned and bumped his head against the desk. The long feather in his hat flopped down, tickling his nose. He promptly sneezed. 

“Ah. To the gods! Even my own hat hates me.” He moaned. 

Thankfully he was pulled from his self-pity by a knock at the door. He jumped to his feet and straightened his hat, tucking the treacherous heron feather back into place. 

“Come in!” He trilled. 

Annabelle, a pretty redhead and one of his longest serving maids entered the room. “ Lord Lettenhove.” Annabelle curtsied.

Julian rolled his eyes and pulled the girl to her feet. “Annabelle, dearest, how many times must I ask you to call me Julian and none of this grovelling nonsense. Tell me, how are your family? Your mother was sick, is she feeling any better? I trust she received the medicine I sent.” 

Annabelle blushed and smiled up at him. “Yes Lord Let - Lord Julian. Thank you very much. You are too kind to us.” 

“My darling, I simply have nothing better to do with my fortune than ensure my staff are well looked after. How’s the little one, Eleanor if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, Lord Julian. She’s growing up fast. My sister told me she started to crawl yesterday.” Annabelle answered meekly. 

Julian gasped and put his hand to his chest. “And you missed it! Oh my dear, my sincerest apologies.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I love my job, Lord Julian. There is no reason to apologise. You’ve already done far too much for my family.” 

It was Julian’s time to blush. He hated how much his staff revered him, didn’t they realise his motivations were purely selfish? He just wanted to get out of this house! He wanted to leave them. They just didn’t see any of that but he didn’t let his frustration show. “Now now, they’ll be time to sing my praises later, my dear, what was it that you needed? We are not due another order from the farms yet are we?”

The girl laughed quietly. “No, nothing like that. Forgive me, Lord Julian, I don’t mean to make assumptions.”

She shuffled awkwardly on her feet. “Well go on! Don’t keep me in suspense like this.” He pouted with a hand on his hips. 

“There’s a rumour going round, Lord Julian.” She blushed. “About a witcher in one of the outer villages. They were having problems on the full moon. Mysterious and gruesome murders.”

Julian wanted to jump for joy. 

A real witcher. 

On his land. 

“Oh my!” He clapped his hands together. “We must send for him at once!” He ran to his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “Now tell me Annabelle what monsters are more enticing to a monster hunter, vampires or werewolves?” He scoffed before she could answer. “No no, that’s too obvious, and unbearably dull. Nekkers? Oooh, what about a draconid? A forktail perhaps?”

Annabelle kept opening and closing her mouth but there was no interrupting Julian when he got like this. He barely even noticed he still had company. 

“Or a wraith!” He laughed gaily. “Oh yes that will do nicely! A wraith haunting the attic! Then we may get to see the witcher in action, oh the tales I could write! Maybe I could publish them under a pseudonym, Master Dandelion may yet still live!” 

His hands flew over the paper as he scrawled as quickly and elegantly as he could. Once he was finished he read it over quickly, cornflower blue eyes scanning over the words quick as lightning. 

> _My dear witcher,_
> 
> _On behalf of Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, I would like to thank you for offering your services to assist our villagers with their furry little problem. I write this letter before the news of your success has reached me but I have no doubt that you will succeed in your quest! You must tell me whether you have slain the beast or cured it of the lycanthropy. I await the tale of your heroic adventure with great anticipation.  
>  _
> 
> _The Lord Lettenhove requests your presence at his estate. You see, my dearest witcher, we have a little pest problem of our own. A wraith haunts the house and our poor chambermaids are quite at their wits end with fright.  
>  _
> 
> _I beseech you. Don’t delay.  
>  _

> _Yours, Dandelion._

He chuckled at the name. He was going to have a lot of fun with this witcher, whoever it maybe, and he didn’t need the witcher knowing exactly who he was just yet. He sealed the letter swiftly and all but shoved poor Annabelle from the room so that she could deliver it hastily. 

He followed after her and practically ran down the corridor and up the stairs to the master bedroom. He flung open his wardrobe as he hummed a new melody under his breath. He needed to choose an outfit. Something that was less Viscount and more genius bard. 

He stripped off his golden doublet and trousers in exchange for his favourite plum set. It had intricate embroidery around the collar that he just adored. He paired the doublet with a white undershirt with lace around the cuffs and collar. 

He took off his hat and twirled a strand of his soft golden blond hair in between his fingers. He’d been growing it out lately, he was really just so bored, and he’d been considering experimenting with some curling irons like he’d seen his cook use. He was certain that Hanna would show him how to use them if he asked nicely.

But did he have enough time for that?

He still needed to set up his wraith problem, and it needed to be convincing enough to keep the witcher around long enough to get to know him, perhaps he could even lure the man to his bedroom if he were that way inclined.

Gods he hoped he was.

It had been too long since Julian, no, Dandelion, had had a male lover.

Well, if he was planning to seduce the man then he really should look his best but first he needed to make sure that they stage was set. He picked up his old forgotten lute from the corner of the bedroom, gently trailing a finger down the neck of the instrument before quickly plucking at the strings and fiddling with the pegs to make sure she was still in tune. 

“I am so sorry darling.” He cooed to the instrument. “It’s been too long.” 

He tucked her into his old lute case and appraised his reflection in his mirror. 

“Hmm…” He stuck his tongue out as he concentrated. “Not quite right. Oh yes! My hat!” He swiped up a matching plum coloured bonnet and pinned a feather in place because plopping it onto his head. He looked back at his reflection with a furrowed brow and then inspiration hit him and he tilted his hat so he fell slightly to one side. “Perfect!” 

He giggled and bowed dramatically to his reflection. “Master Dandelion, at your service!” He grinned seductively. 

Oh this witcher would have no idea what hit him.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt of Rivia was still splattered in blood and gore when a terrified young boy had run up to him the inn, the stench of his fear had made Geralt grimace as it blended horrifically with the bitter scent of werewolf blood around him. The boy had passed him a letter and then run off before Geralt coin even offer him a spare coin.

He’d reread the letter a few times already, it was just that ridiculous. 

“Who the fuck is Dandelion?” He grumbled and stuffed the letter into his pocket.

The Viscount de Lettenhove. He’d heard whispers of the Viscount, he was an unusual sort. The man had practically given away half his fortune against the advice of every banker and lawyer that was employed by his family, and by some miracle, or pure dumb luck, the man had ended up doubling his wealth before the year was out. 

Geralt scoffed.

He was probably some stuck up arrogant prick, most of the upper class were. Geralt hated when the contracts took him to Royal courts and fancy castles. It was there where the difference between man and monster was barely perceptible, even to him. 

The only up side is that they had coin, which was more than could be said for the villages. Although even then they were less likely to give it up. The infamous Viscount, however, Geralt mused, would probably throw the coin at him before he’d even entered the room.

And this Dandelion fellow seemed to know a thing or two about monsters. Geralt hid a smile at that thought. He wasn’t often that his clients knew that a Lycanthrope could sometimes be cured of their curse. Even less wanted to explore the option of breaking the curse. Humans were not that forgiving.

He considered a bath before heading to the castle but the glare that the innkeeper was giving him changed his mind. He’d probably be more likely to get a nice warm bath at the castle at any rate. This Dandelion fellow already seemed completely infatuated with the idea of a witcher. Hopefully he would have some sway with the Viscount. 

It wasn’t a long ride to the centre of the Lettenhove estate but Roach was not impressed with his decision not to bathe. He’d only had her for a few weeks and he was still getting her used to monsters and magic, apparently the scent of a blood-soaked witcher was a step too far for her. She stomped her feet and whinnied every few steps until Geralt managed to calm her with Axii. The trek was smoother after that and soon enough the castle came into view. He hopped off her back and tied her to the fence. The stablehands would only flee at the sight of him and it really wasn’t worth the fuss. 

He hadn’t even managed to raise his hand to knock on the door before it flung open. A troubadour wearing a plum coloured doublet bowed extravagantly before him. The heron feather in his hat flopped so slow that it brushed the ground and the lute case slipped off of his back and tumbled to the floor with a twang of the strings. 

When the bard looked back up of him Geralt was taken aback. 

He was beautiful. His face was similar to that of the elves. Geralt couldn’t be sure that the man wasn’t an elf, or at the very least a half elf as his ears were covered by his hat. His blond hair was gently curled and fell just above his chin, but it was his eyes that drew Geralt’s attention. They were the brightest blue that Geralt had ever seen. If he had to make a comparison then he would say they were cornflower blue but honestly that didn’t do them justice. 

Dandelion smirked and adjusted his hat before his tongue flicked between his lips. Geralt gawped at the movement before his witcher training kicked in and he regained his composure. 

“You Dandelion?” He asked.

The bard beamed. “You got my letter!” He laughed melodically. 

Fuck the lute. Geralt had never heard such beautiful music as this man’s laugh. He cursed at himself mentally. 

“Get a grip.” He muttered under his breath. “The wraith? Do you know what kind?” He asked, steering the conversation straight to business. “Any witnesses or ideas who she is?” 

“Witcher!” Dandelion pouted and put one hand on his hip. “You cannot be expected to fight like that! You might have deadly wounds hidden under all that….” The bard gestured at all of him. “and quite frankly I can barely look at you without my stomach turning.”

Geralt hummed. “A bath would be welcome, but the wraith?” 

He frowned if the house was haunted then surely the Viscount would want the wraith gone as a matter of urgency. 

Dandelion looked up at the sky, the sun still hung high in the stay and stuck his tongue whist he thought, then he flashed Geralt a dashing smile that made his pulse spike ever so gently. 

Damned bard. 

“Not a problem, dear witcher. She won’t be out until dusk. I promise you have time to bathe, and then I’ll gather the witnesses and you can do your witchering!” Dandelion said with a flourish.

Geralt grunted as he considered the new information. “Nightwraith. Unusual for them to be in a house. They usually prefer rural areas.”

Dandelion laughed, his heartbeat running faster in his chest. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the blond. Something wasn’t right here. 

“Well, it might not have been a wraith.” Dandelion admitted and twirled a lock of hair in his long elegant fingers. “It was an educated guessed. Come along, witcher, I shall call for a bath!” 

Geralt tilted his head. “Where’s the Viscount?”

Dandelion froze for barely second. Most humans wouldn’t have noticed, but Geralt had sharper senses. Dandelion flashed him a devastating smile and put his hand on his hips. “Away on business.” 

Geralt sniffed the air and growled. He grabbed the troubadour by his collar and pushed him against the wall. The man was the same height as him so his feet weren’t lifted off the floor but that didn’t matter. 

The bard was lying to him. He reeked of deceit… and arousal?

Geralt swallowed, wondering if coming here had been a mistake. 

“Tell the truth.” He growled. 

Dandelion pawed at his hands. “Witcher! I must insist you let me go this instant! You are getting blood all over my clothes!” The bard protested. “At least have a bath before pinning me to the wall.” He added with a wink before looking back down at the mess of his doublet and whining pathetically. 

“Fine.” Geralt growled. “But I won’t kill any monsters until you come clean, bard.”

Geralt trudged upstairs after Dandelion. The bard followed him into a room with a large brass tub that the servants were already starting to fill up. The water wasn’t steaming as much as he liked but he could always use Igni to heat up the water. He peeled off his armour and bloody undershirt before he realised that Dandelion was still in the room, and watching him. 

He raised an eyebrow at the troubadour. 

“Problem?” 

Dandelion blushed. Despite his protests and babbles about feeling sick at the sight of blood, the man was clearly aroused. His blue eyes were dilated and there was a flush to his skin that made Geralt’s own blood run a little faster. His eyes were drawn to the troubadour’s neck. He’s never found someone’s neck so attractive before but fuck he wanted to leave marks all over that pretty elegant neck, show the world the bard was his. 

He growled under his breath at the thought. The bard was not his. He did not want the bard to be his. It had just been too long since he’d frequented a brothel, made it harder to think straight.

Dandelion had taken off his bloodstained doublet and was now parading around the room in just his shirt and trousers. There were specks of blood on the collar of his shirt but it had mostly been shielded by the plum doublet. 

“No, no. No problem.” Dandelion smiled coyly. “Just enjoying the view.”

Geralt hummed but decided to let the bard have his fun. He finished stripping down, chuckling at the barely audible whimper from the blond as he took his underclothes off, and slipped into the tub. 

It was heaven. 

He sank under the water to get the majority of the gore from out his hair before surfacing for air. Dandelion was watching him intently from the doorway. 

“I could help, you know? With your hair, or back.” Dandelion suggested breathlessly. 

Geralt appraised the bard’s obvious aroused state. “Can you behave yourself, bard?”

Dandelion nodded, the feather in his hat bouncing along with the movement. “Oh yes. Absolutely. I will be a picture of innocence, the young maiden’s that hunt unicorns will be envious of my ability to behave.” 

Geralt smirked. “Fine. You can help.” 

“Excellent choice, dear witcher!” Dandelion sang happily. 

Dandelion helped to wash the blood from his hair. Geralt snarled as the bard dumped an extra bucket of water over his head without warning. He had been expecting the man to take a little more care in his work but he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. After that Dandelion threaded his long, troubadour’s fingers through Geralt hair and gently pulled at the strands, massaging his scalp, until his hair was once again a glimmering silver and Geralt was practically purring under his ministrations.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia!” The bard exclaimed. “The Butcher of Blaviken.”

Pain shot through Geralt’s heart but the bard was still not afraid. 

Why was he not afraid?

“Oh no, that won’t do at all. You are no butcher, dear witcher. You are glorious. You are… the White Wolf!”

Geralt hummed. “Do you ever shut up, bard?” 

Dandelion laughed and stroked a finger along Geralt’s shoulder. “Only when my mouth is otherwise engaged.”

Geralt lurched away from Dandelion’s touch as if it had burnt him and he leapt from the bathtub. It was only years of self restraint that kept his own arousal in check. “I thought I told you to behave.” He growled. “It’s getting on, I need to talk to the witnesses.”

Dandelion pouted. “You are no fun, Geralt.” 

“The Viscount asked me to hunt a monster, not fuck his bard.” Geralt smirked at the blond, delighting in the ever-deepening blush on his cheeks. His eyes were now almost completely black and his scent was permeating the air, thick with lust and desire.

“Oh I am quite sure, Lord Julian wouldn’t mind.” Dandelion simpered. 

“Witnesses.” Geralt hissed through gritted teeth as he began to pull on the spare shirt that Dandelion’s servants hand provided. His armour still needed cleaning but at least he no longer had blood smeared over his eyes and hair. “Who are they?”

Dandelion finally admitted defeat with a sag of his shoulders. “Right this way, Geralt.”

* * *

Julian’s plan to meet a witcher was going swimmingly, and it was even the infamous Geralt of Rivia! To the gods, the stories about Geralt’s molten gold eyes did not do them justice and his hair, now it was clean, was shining brighter than moonlight dancing on the glittering surface of the ocean. He was toned from decades, maybe even centuries of hunting monsters. His skin was littered with scars, each one hiding an adventure that Julian so desperately wanted to unveil. 

Julian’s plan to seduce a witcher was not going so well. 

He’d flirted outrageously with Geralt, and the witcher had certainly noticed, he’d even called Julian out on it. To Julian’s dismay, Geralt seemed entirely focussed on the hunt. He was currently questioning the ‘witnesses’ better known as Julian’s poor maids. They’d only had a few minutes to memorise the backstory to the ‘nightwraith’ and they were making a hash of their lines. Geralt hummed and grunted in the right places but didn’t press for any details. 

Julian nodded at his stable boy who’d appeared in the door way to the sitting room. It was up to the gardeners and stablehands to create the effect of a wraith in the upper levels of the castle. They were to use bellows to create gusts of wind and Julian had helped set up a few trip lines that would knock some of the ornaments off their shelves. 

“Dandelion. A word?” Geralt stood up abruptly and left the room. 

Julian cursed and scurried after him. “Excellent work everyone. Just Excellent!” He called to his staff on the way out. 

Geralt was waiting for him in the foyer. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Geralt?” He asked with a lick of his lips. 

The witcher’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue, just like he’d hoped they would. Perhaps his plan of seduction was going better than he’d realised. He bit his lip, pretending to be anxious about what the witcher had to say. 

“Dandelion. What the fuck is going on here?” Geralt’s eyes were boring down into his with such intensity that Julian felt as if all the air was being sucked from the room. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” He replied, capturing a blond curl between his fingers. 

“Cut the bullshit, bard. None of your so called witnesses could confirm what the spectre looked like or where it tended to appear. There are no recent deaths around the time the wraith first appeared, which is anything between a week ago to yesterday depending on who I ask, and even older corpses were buried correctly and none of them had unfinished business.” Geralt slowly walked towards him. “There’s no monster here, and the Viscount is not away on business. You’re lying to me, bard. Why?” 

Julian blushed. 

“Ah.”

“What is it? Some kind of dare? A trap?” Geralt growled. “or some sick little fantasy of fucking a witcher?” 

Julian stumbled backwards against the wall, praying to any god that was listening that his body wouldn’t betray his arousal. Geralt was now effectively pinning him against the wall and Julian could feel the warm breath of the witcher brush against his cheeks. “No!” He cried. “No. None of that.”

“A game then?” Geralt asked with a tilt of his head.

“Of sorts.” He admitted. 

“Where’s the Viscount?” Geralt asked. 

“Present.” Julian gave a small wave of his hand. 

Geralt snorted. “You? You’re just a bard!” 

“Oh I wish.” He sighed wistfully. “Oh the adventures we could have had, you and I. Sadly, a dream that was lost before it ever began.”

Geralt hummed and finally stepped back, Julian felt as if he could breathe again and he sank to his knees with a helpless whine. 

“I heard you were in the area. I just wanted to meet you, to not be myself for two damn minutes.” Julian admitted. “Dandelion was going to be my stage name.” 

Geralt remained silent. 

“I swear I just wanted to talk. I didn’t know how else to get you here. Witchers hunt monsters. They do not attend a Viscount’s estate for wine and dinner.” Julian finally dared to meet the witcher’s eyes. They were still blazing with amber fire, and Julian was like a moth drawn to that flame.

“I never wanted this life, Geralt.” 

“That’s why you tried to give it all away?” Geralt finally answered.

“Yes!” Julian exclaimed. “A fat lot of good that did. The Lettenhove estate has never been so wealthy. It’s a miracle they’ve not sent assassins after me!” 

Geralt just turned on his heels and stalked out of the doors with his swords on his back. 

“Geralt wait!” Julian ran after him. 

Geralt turned round slowly with a smirk on his face. 

“Next time, make sure there’s a monster.”

Julian gaped at the witcher as he sauntered to the stables.

“Next time?” He repeated breathlessly. 

Challenge accepted!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how self-indulgent this fic is?? I was giggling whilst proof reading. Anyhoo, hope you liked it! :) 
> 
> \- Yaz


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt visited the Lettenhove Estate on a regular basis after that fateful day. He hadn’t intended to. He’d intended to forget all about Viscount Julian and Dandelion the bard, but the man had wormed his way into Geralt’s head, like poison in his veins. Dandelion, Julian just didn’t suit him, wrote him letters every time Geralt found himself in the area and Geralt gritted his teeth and mounted Roach every single damned time. The first time he’d ridden in the opposite direction for about ten minutes before he’d noticed a patch on cornflowers at the side of the road. He’d sworn and turned Roach around to help clear an arachnomorph infestation from the kitchen. 

The monstrous spiders had turned out to be just normal house spiders, big ones but still easy to squish under one’s boot. Dandelion had whimpered about spiders being scary and had practically jumped into Geralt’s arms when one had started to crawl up his leg. Geralt had rolled his eyes but allowed the Viscount to cling to him. He didn’t stink of fear despite his act of jumpy cowardliness but Geralt didn’t call him out on it. He was rather amused by the whole scenario and he left the castle with a purse filled with coin, not a bad reward for killing some spiders. 

The next claim was a bruxa in the wine cellar. The bruxa had been a friend of Dandelion’s, stark naked with dark hair tumbling down in front of her breasts. Geralt had taken one look at her tanned skin and turned back out of the wine cellar, Dandelion babbling excuses after him. 

After that had been a werewolf in the shed which had turned out to be a large dog. 

Then a harpy nest on the roof which was just chicken eggs in a bundle of straw. 

Each time Dandelion would follow Geralt around like a sad lost puppy. He would insist on feeding Geralt, or ordering him a bath if he was looking too travel worn. Geralt grew used to having the blond’s vibrant blue eyes watching him as he undressed, he enjoyed the casual touches to his arms and chest. Dandelion didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it. Every time that Geralt was close, those soft gentle hands would reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, or squeezing his arm, or stroking across his shoulder as they passed each other. 

Geralt had even begun to call the man his friend, in the privacy of his own mind.

Dandelion had now claimed that a dragon was terrorising a local farm. Geralt didn’t even hunt dragons and yet he still found himself galloping off to meet Dandelion at his estate. He didn’t think too much into it. He told himself that if he didn’t go then it would inevitably be the one time that Dandelion was telling the truth. 

The wannabe troubadour was standing by the entrance to the manor as he galloped up the path to the house. He dismounted from Roach whilst she was still slowing to a walk and landed on the ground with ease. Roach whinnied and trotted around the front of the house towards the stables, she’d been here enough time by now that she’d learnt where the best hay was. 

“Geralt!” Dandelion greeted with a charming smile. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Dandelion flung his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt grunted but returned the hug, enjoying the soothing scent of lavender that always hung to the Viscount. He resisted burying his nose in the crook of Dandelion’s neck, that was too much temptation. How would he restrain himself from peppering the soft skin with kisses, from leaving dark bruising marks beneath the soft blond curls that tickled his jaw?

Instead, Geralt pushed the Viscount away and scowled at him.

“A dragon?” Geralt asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Really?”

Dandelion flushed prettily under his cobolt blue hat. It was a striking colour on the Viscount that made his eyes shine and sparkle against his skin. Geralt’s throat went dry as he allowed his gaze to drink in the sight of the blond. Dandelion preened under the attention like a fancy peacock.

He was truly a sight to behold. 

“Well.” Dandelion sulked. “It might have been a forktail?”

“In other words a goat with wings stuck to it.” Geralt surmised. 

Dandelion gasped and placed a hand on his heart. He stumbled backwards slightly and his hat almost fell from his head. “Geralt” He whined. “At least ride out to the village with me, my dear witcher.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Roach is tired. We rode hard to get here. Dragons are dangerous beasts.”

Roach was fine. 

He’d only been in the next town over. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. 

“Oh of course.” Dandelion beamed at him and put a hand on his hips. His tongue flicked out and brushed his lower lip. He had a habit of doing that and it drove Geralt mad. “Well you are more than welcome to rest here for a while. Food? A glass of wine perhaps? Or maybe some company?” Dandelion practically purred. 

“Food would be good.” Geralt agreed, his stomach rumbling as if it had heard the Viscount’s words. 

Dandelion pouted but ushered Geralt into the house. “It’s too early for dinner but Hanna won’t mind if we raid the kitchens. Come Geralt.” 

The kitchen was warm, just like at Kaer Morhen, and the aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet buns filled the room. Geralt hummed contently. There was something incredibly grounding about the smell of freshly baked bread. Dandelion flitted around the kitchen with ease, searching the cupboards for some plates. 

“I haven’t done this since I was a child.” He admitted, smiling brighter than the sun. “Hanna used to smack me over the bottom if she caught me stealing sweet buns.”

Geralt chuckled. “Well I’m not doing that so get it out of your head.”

Dandelion’s heart raced in his chest. “Geralt!” 

“Dandelion?” He smirked. 

“You bloody tease.” The Viscount muttered under his breath and carried on his search around the kitchen. 

Eventually there were two plates pile high with pork pies, cheese, and honey covered rolls. Geralt moaned as he bit into the first pork pie. It was delicious. The Viscount’s cook was clearly a very talented woman. 

Dandelion’s face was colour of roses and he nibbled his own plate of food. After a few minutes of eating in silence Dandelion sighed dramatically and swept his hat from off his head. “Gosh it’s hot in here!” 

He fanned himself with his hat before abandoning it in favour of undoing the buttons on his doublet. Geralt watched, entranced by the Viscount’s fingers as they nimbly made light work of the buttons. 

He swallowed and frowned before shaking his head. 

“So the dragon?” He asked through mouthful of pastry. “What type?”

Dandelion’s melodic laughter filled the room and Geralt’s heart. “Why a golden dragon of course!” He announced with a wave of his hand. 

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Dandelion!” He snapped. 

“What?” The Viscount whined. 

“Golden dragons don’t exist. They are just a myth.” Geralt growled. 

“Oh.” Dandelion stuck his tongue out as he thought. “Could have been a red dragon?”

It turned out that the ‘dragon’ was a horse… with wings created out of old doublets and sticks. One of the villages was riding the horse with a torch burning in his hand and yelling at anyone who came near the stables. 

Geralt threw Dandelion an exasperated look. The Viscount just pouted at him and fluttered his eyelashes. 

“Well it’s not my fault there haven’t been any real monsters recently.” Dandelion’s hand lingered on his arm. 

The setting sunlight hit the blond curls on top of Dandelion’s head. Geralt tilted his head as he gazed at his friend. He gently removed the Viscount’s blue bonnet and tucked it under his arm, then he captured a lock of blond hair in his fingers, just liked he’d seen the viscount do on many occasions. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, the curls springing back into place once he released them. 

Dandelion was staring at him openmouthed, blue eyes shimmering in the light of the setting sun. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?” 

The Viscount’s heart was thundering in his chest, his sweet lavender scent grew only sweeter under Geralt’s touch. “What are you doing, my dear?”

Geralt blinked at the question and pulled his hand away. 

“There’s no dragon.” He replied sternly. “Farewell, Dandelion.”

Dandelion sighed forlornly. “Farewell, my darling.”

* * *

Dandelion was slowly going crazy stuck in his old castle. It had been three years since he’d first met Geralt. Over the last three years he’d played his part perfectly. He summoned the witcher at least once a year with cries for help and pretend monsters. Geralt rode out to meet him every single time. Dandelion was sure that Geralt knew his monsters were fake, that was part of the game, and yet every time Geralt insisted on focussing on his hunt and ignoring Dandelion’s propositions. 

Well, not ignoring them entirely. 

Dandelion didn’t miss the way the witcher looked at him like he was the sweetest chocolate to be unwrapped, amber eyes dark with hunger and lust. 

And yet the damned surly witcher had never acted on it. 

Dandelion had practically thrown himself into the witcher’s lap, begged him to take him away on one of his adventures, pleaded with him to allow Dandelion to be more. He needed more, more than this house, more than this life. 

Geralt’s fiery eyes and silver hair haunted his dreams. Dandelion had woken up many a time with Geralt’s name falling from his lips, false memories and Geralt’s gruff voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

His choice in lovers had shifted since meeting the witcher. He found himself drawn more to well built men over pretty maidens with perky bottoms and luscious golden locks. There was just this itch that he couldn’t scratch, no matter who he bedded. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the way his heart skipped a beat every time Geralt galloped up to the house on Roach. 

He hit his head on his desk and moaned. 

“My Lord Viscount. What you are asking is preposterous!” His lawyer gasped, dumbfounded. 

“Kings and Queens can abdicate.” Dandelion answered firmly. “I have had enough!” 

“There is no coming back from this Viscount Julian.” The lawyer countered. “If you regret it—”

“I won’t fucking regret it!” Dandelion insisted. “There must be some cousin or other distant relative.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

Dandelion hit the desk with his fist. “I simply don’t care!”

“Viscount Julian. I beg you, please reconsider.” 

Dandelion glared fiercely at the other man. “I should have run away when I had the chance. I was going to you know. I had clothes stuffed into my lute case and ready to go, but I didn’t. You’ve had me trapped here for thirteen years but no more! I’m more than this, this place.” He threw his hands up and gestured at the study. 

But the fool still wasn’t listening. Dandelion stood up and declared the meeting over. He was going to get his lute and leave. 

It was time. 

He could follow Geralt’s trace on the path. 

He could track him down and they could travel together. Maybe he’d actually see a real monster for once. 

That was if Geralt even let him come with him. He hoped he would. The witcher did always come when he called for him. That had to mean something, but if it meant something then why did he always push Dandelion’s affections away like he’d been burned? Dandelion scoffed. It wasn’t as if he was repulsive, he was well aware of his good looks and he knew when someone was attracted to him. Maybe Geralt thought that Dandelion was just out for a good fuck. It may have started like that but after three years surely Geralt could see how much their little games meant to Dandelion? For someone that was observant, Geralt really could be an oblivious brute. 

He sighed. 

Maybe it was time to give up the games. He’d showed his hand over and over again. Geralt could have no doubt about Dandelion’s intentions. He was really quite in love with the witcher. He flirted, he danced, he preened, all to gain moments of the witcher’s attention. Seconds of pure torturous bliss when Geralt would smile dangerously and lavish Dandelion with flirtatious words that made him feel weak and wanton. 

No.

It was the witcher’s turn now. Dandelion was done with wearing his heart on his sleeve for scraps of the witcher’s attention. 

The witcher would come to him, wherever that may be. 

“Viscount Julian! Wait!” The mousy man called him back. “A compromise, if you please.”

Dandelion cursed and turned back to face the man with his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“Your cousin will take over the estate in your absence, but you will remain Viscount by title. You will need to return to the estate once a year, and you will need to stay here for a little while until your cousin arrives.” 

Dandelion narrowed his eyes at the man and sighed. Spring was just around the corner. He could enjoy the warmth of his house until then. There was no point freezing to death just to be spiteful. “Two weeks. No more.” 

He turned his back with a toss of his hair and practically skipped out of the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3!! Wooo... I had far too much fun thinking up fake monsters for this chapter. Next chapter is the last one of this one. Not sure which story I'll post next after that. I have almost two written. One is Geralt whump. The other is a shifter Jaskier fic which I absolutely love but it's not quite finished yet so we will see! 
> 
> All of these are also posted on [tumblr](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/) and I am taking Geraskier prompts (or other ships). 
> 
> Anyway. Maybe let me know what you think :) 
> 
> \- Yaz


	4. Chapter 4

The witchers gathered around the table were all laughing drunkenly as Geralt finished his latest tale of Dandelion the fake bard. Over the years, Dandelion’s attempts at creating monsters had been a source of entertainment over the winter for the witchers of Kaer Morhen. 

“A fucking horse with wings!” Lambert could barely catch his breath between bouts of laughter. “Why didn’t the idiot just call it a unicorn or something like that?” 

Geralt smiled fondly at the memory of the Viscount’s sheepish expression when the horse had ridden out of the barn. 

“The real idiot here is Geralt.” Eskel pointed out.

Geralt snarled at his brother and glared fiercely but it didn’t have any affect on Eskel, he was too used to Geralt’s moods. 

“If I had a pretty blonde throwing themselves at me like that, White Wolf.” Eskel grinned. “I would not ride off until the world was overrun with monsters and Vesemir pulled me out of the house kicking and screaming.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” Lambert agreed. 

Geralt’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Lambert raised an eyebrow at him. “You have got to be fucking kidding.” 

Geralt shrugged. “Humour me.” 

“That Viscount wants to ride you until he can’t remember his own name.” Lambert laughed.

“And then some.” Eskel added.

Geralt frowned. Sure Dandelion was a flirtatious man. The first time they’d met Dandelion had practically thrown himself at Geralt but after that he’d been more reserved. Geralt had assumed that the Viscount had changed his mind after Geralt’s vicious rejection. They had settled down into a sort of camaraderie. 

There was nothing more to it than that. 

Dandelion created his monsters and after some food or a bath Geralt would tear them apart. 

That was it.

A foolish Viscount and his witcher.

Geralt scoffed. 

Perhaps he was the foolish one. He was still not sure why he kept going back to Lettenhove. 

“It’s not like that.” Geralt grunted. 

His brother burst into hysterics, too much white gull in their systems.

“Oh White Wolf.” Eskel smirked and patted his cheek. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“That was your first mistake.” Lambert cackled. 

“That Dandelion of yours knows that you aren’t fooled by his trickery.” Eskel explained. “And yet he keeps calling you back.”

“And the wolf always comes when he’s beckoned.” Lambert snorted into his drink. “Maybe the Viscount is the real monster? A siren!” 

Eskel laughed. “Or a succubus.”

Geralt growled. “He’s not a monster.”

“Calm down, Geralt. It’s a joke.” Eskel rolled his eyes. 

“Hmm.”

“Fucking hell, he’s worse than usual.” Lambert groaned and topped up Geralt’s flagon with white gull. “Drink up!”

“I’m not thirsty.” He pushed the drink away. 

He stood up and left his drunken brothers in the dining hall. He fled to the safety of his room and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

He could picture Dandelion’s soft blond curls, hear his musical laughter, smell the sweet scent of lavender. 

He groaned and rolled over, burying his nose in his pillow. “Fuck off, Dandelion!”

But the Viscount stayed with him, even when he closed his eyes. 

Were his brothers right? Did Dandelion still want him or was it just a game like it always had been? 

Last summer Lambert had decided to ride out to Dandelion’s lands. He had paraded around the villages and in the taverns with his swords proudly on his back. He had enquired loudly, in typical a Lambert manner, about any jobs that might require a witcher, but no letter had been sent, only a purse filled with coin. Lambert had been bemoaning about it all winter. Apparently it wasn’t fair that Geralt had a safe space at the castle, somewhere to bathe and recuperate should he need to, and the other witchers had to make do with scornful looks by shitty tavern owners. 

Geralt had brushed off the story before, assuming that Dandelion had just been too busy to entertain a witcher, but Geralt had been in a nearby town less than a week later and no sooner had he arrived than a young girl had pressed a letter into his hands, Dandelion’s familiar seal stuck to the paper in vibrant yellow wax, the scent of buttercup perfume wafting from the paper.

Geralt snarled at jumped out of his bed. He stared wistfully out of the window. The path was still thick with snow and the chill in the air would prevent the path from clearing properly for another few days at the least.

He was stuck in Kaer Morhen until spring and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t want to be. He was restless. He didn’t feel comforted by the hot springs in the bathhouse. He didn’t feel at home with his family surrounding him. He didn’t feel well rested after months of sleeping in his own bed. 

He peered back out at the snowy mountains. The snow wasn’t as thick and treacherous as it was in the middle of winter. There were already signs of melting. The rivers flowed fuller than they had all winter, no longer frozen solid in blocks of startling blue ice, and the branches of the trees no longer sagged under the weight of snow. 

If he could melt away some of the snow then Roach would be able to navigate the trail. She was used to this journey now, no longer the skittish mare from three years ago. She’d grown into a reliable and trusted companion, as Roach always was and always would be. 

With his mind made up he began to pack up his belongs and pulled his heavy winter cloak from his wardrobe. 

It was time to leave Kaer Morhen. 

* * *

Dandelion was packing up his essentials into his lute case, humming a new melody under his breath, when Annabelle ran into room without knocking. 

“My Lord Dandelion.” She panted. Her cheeks were rosy from her run through the house and her red hair was wild as it tried to escape its bonnet on top of her head. 

He dropped his lovely shimmering lilac doublet back onto his bed and caught the girl’s hands in his own. “Annabelle? What’s wrong my dear?” 

“The witcher!” She gasped. 

Dandelion felt his eyes go wide. “Geralt?”

“Lord Dandelion, he’s here.” She beamed up at him.

Oh no.

No no no.

Geralt wouldn’t have come for him. It was too soon. Spring had barely thawed the snow. Geralt should still be stuck up in the mountains with the other witchers, with Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir. There was no chance in all the Continent that Geralt could have made his way all the way from Kaedwen to the Lettenhove Estate already. 

Dandelion ran a hand through his hair. It was a mess. There wouldn’t be enough time to curl it either. Oh to the gods he was a state! The witcher simply could not be here already. He thanked Annabelle and pressed a gold coin into her hands, sending her on her way and then turned to face his mirror. 

“Oh this won’t do at all!” He whined and stripped off his mossy green jerkin that he’d picked out for travelling in and madly hopped about the room as he tried to pull on his lilac ensemble. His hair was a lost cause but he hoped that his hat would hide the worst of it. He appraised his reflection carefully. Perhaps he could draw Geralt’s eyes away from the mess of his hair. 

He stuck his tongue between his lips as he considered the best plan of attack. Eyes… or lips? 

Or both?

A last attempt to woo his witcher. 

It was time for something utterly shameless. He pulled out the drawer of his dresser and plucked the kohl pencil from the top. His tongue slipped between his teeth as he concentrated, his hands shaking slightly as he brushed the kohl around his eyes. It was a miracle that the liner wasn’t horrendously wonky. There were a few shaky scuffs but overall Dandelion was proud of his work. The dark lines around his eyes made the blue pop. He smirked and moved onto the lipstick. It was a dark blood red stain that stood out brilliantly against his skin and golden blond hair. 

He would just have to be careful not to bite his lips too much and wipe the make up off before Geralt could see the full look. 

He tilted his head and adjusted his hat, making sure the feather was in place. 

Now, he was ready for his witcher. 

He strode from his room and down towards the foyer. Sure enough Geralt was waiting for him. He was stood awkwardly by the stairs, swords on his back and looking rather out of place in the extravagant mansion. 

Geralt’s eyes flashed up when he heard Dandelion approach. Dandelion basked in the witcher’s gaze. Geralt’s amber eyes lingered on his lips and the witcher looked like he wanted to devour him. Dandelion smiled smugly and winked at the witcher. 

“Greetings Geralt!” He purred as he slowly made his way down the stairs. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.” 

As he reached the bottom stair he reached out and stroked the witcher’s cheek, letting his finger trail down to Geralt’s jaw and neck. 

Geralt visibly swallowed and his eyes darkened. 

“Dandelion.” He growled and captured Dandelion’s wandering hand in his own. 

“You’re lucky, witcher. A day later and you would have been quite disappointed. I am finally leaving this godforsaken house. You’ve inspired me, dearest. I want my adventure! I am going out to see the world for myself. My lute is tuned and ready to compose ballads that will change the world.” He sighed wistfully.

Geralt scowled and tilted his head. His hand still gripped Dandelion’s which was a pity because he so wanted to thread his fingers into that radiant silver hair. “You’re leaving?”

Dandelion nodded. “I am. I think we’ve been playing this game for long enough, don’t you think? It’s time for me to go out and see some real monsters.”

Geralt unexpectedly smiled playfully and brought Dandelion’s fingers to his lips. 

Dandelion almost swooned. He suddenly felt rather breathless and he had no words to say, they were taken from him by this glorious man.

“I heard” Geralt leant forward to whisper in his ear, which was really quite indecent. The man’s voice was husky and low, his breath tickled against Dandelion’s cheek. “that you had a monster problem.”

Dandelion whimpered. He wasn’t proud of it but he found he was quite under Geralt’s spell which was really not fair. He was supposed to be the one that was doing the seducing, not the other way round. 

“There are rumours” Geralt continued, his hand now resting on the small of Dandelion’s back, pulling their bodies closer together. “of a succubus in the Viscount’s castle, living right under his nose.”

“Oh?” Dandelion asked as heat pooled in his stomach. 

“Dangerous creatures.” Geralt growled. “They can drive a man mad with lust.”

Dandelion gasped as Geralt’s lips moved to his neck. “I know the feeling.” Dandelion answered breathlessly. 

Geralt chuckled and his hands slid down Dandelion’s back to grope his ass. Dandelion yelped in surprise and threw his arms around Geralt’s neck to support himself as his knees threatened to give out. He was positively dizzy with lust, his vision was hazy and all he could see, feel, smell was Geralt. 

It was all he needed. 

Geralt’s lips were still lavishing his neck, kissing and sucking at the tender skin, sending shocks of pleasure through Dandelion’s body. Geralt was surely leaving marks on his skin and that thought only made him feel even more aroused. 

He tilted his neck to allow the witcher better access. “And where, my darling Geralt, would a succubus be hiding?” He asked, playing along with Geralt’s game.

“Hmm?” Geralt pulled away and looked at him with dark eyes. 

“The succubus?” Dandelion asked weakly. 

Geralt smirked and brushed a finger along Dandelion’s bottom lip. Dandelion trembled under the touch. Instead of answering Geralt suddenly wrapped his arms around Dandelion’s waist and threw him over his shoulder. Dandelion let out a surprised squeak as his feet were swept up from underneath him. Geralt’s strong arms were wrapped just under his ass and he was flopped over the witcher’s back as he if weighed nothing at all. His poor hat tumbled to the floor as it fell from his head. He caught the eye of Annabelle who was watching the whole affair from the other side of the foyer. She was laughing behind her hands. 

Dandelion sighed as he was carried up the stairs, he waved to his staff with wink. 

“Make sure no one disturbs us Annabelle!” He called to the girl. “I have an important meeting to attend to!” 

“Shut it, Dandelion.” Geralt growled. 

He laughed and smacked the witcher’s ass. “Dear witcher, Geralt, my darling.” He purred as the man pushed open the door to his bedroom. 

“What?” 

Dandelion smiled seductively as he was placed back on the ground in front of Geralt, the bed pressing against the back of his legs. He cupped Geralt’s handsome face in his hands. “Make me.”

Geralt growled and did just that, pulling Dandelion into a bruising kiss. One that the Viscount would remember for the rest of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And End Scene!
> 
> I completely adored writing this one. It was just something a bit different with Dandelion instead of Jaskier. The changes personality wise are subtle but it just was refreshing to write :) 
> 
> Next up for these idiots is my shifter!Jaskier fic called The Shape of Love, and of course my ongoing slowburn modern au with teacher!Jask and fireman!Geralt. This one is part of a collection of alternate meet fics I'm doing so maybe check out some of the posted ones! :) 
> 
> Or I'm on [tumblr](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/) if you want to come yell at me about Geraskier. I post plenty of witcher stuff :) 
> 
> I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!
> 
> \- Yaz


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